Three girls have fun in flight. Not exactly consensual, but all friends. Upper body mostly, but some seriously intense feet too.
No nudity, no sex, some sexual references. No underage tickling, 18+. (Trust me and keep reading.)
Comments, critiques, suggestions, are most welcome.
Friendly Russian Skies F/FF, FF/F, very brief M/F
Russian born Boris Babikov and his American half brother Buford were both glad to be flying out of Alaska and on to Moscow to visit relatives. Boris was also fleeing some legal problems. Despite the roar of the engines, they could hear the conversation between the three girls in the seats in front of them.
“I can’t believe you’re only seventeen, Cindy. We’re both older than you, but you look much more mature.”
“I’ll be eighteen soon enough.”
Buford looked at his brother with dismay. For over twenty years, Boris had struggled with a compulsive fetish for tickling underage, seventeen year old girls and it had gotten him in a lot of trouble. Not younger, not older, just seventeen year old girls. Buford could see that look in his brother’s eyes.
“Don’t do it. It’s not right.”
“I have to. Don’t try and stop me. You know what I’m capable of.”
Boris transformed. He began to look like a heroin addict in withdrawal, his hands twitching, his twisted face betraying a sick, twisted need beyond his control. He was sitting in an aisle seat, as was his unsuspecting victim, just in front of him. His wide, bulging eyes fixed on her with manic intensity. Drool dripped from his contorted mouth. HIs nostrils flared to release the building pressure of his increasingly rapid, deep, steamy breath. His jaw was jerking up and down now, whipping his thick drool into rabid foam. “So tender,” he thought, moaning with each breath, “So innocent. So unaware. So vulnerable. So underage.” His perverted, twisted mind forced his hands into twisted claws that began to reach around the seat. “Tickle to death?” he thought with violent, thrilling intensity. “No, not right away. Savor, savor.” As he peered around the seat, the sight of her bare skin, exposed by a belly shirt, enraged him with lustful, criminally insane desire. His filthy, yellowed, talon-like, spastically clasping fingernails edged ever nearer the soft, tender, naked, underage flesh. Closer, closer…
“This is your captain speaking. We have just crossed the international date line. Welcome to tomorrow.”
“Happy birthday Cindy! How does it feel to be eighteen?”
Boris froze. He made a tiny, mewing, wounded animal sound, turned to his brother and said, “Actually, I’ve rather lost interest now.”
Cindy’s friend Chrissy, seated next to her, slipped her arm around Cindy’s back and pulled her closer. “I’m so happy for you.”
Buford Babikov was watching carefully. “Let’s trade seats, Boris.” he said. He lacked some of Boris’s limitations, but had a shared interest.
They traded seats and Buford reached around the seat in front of him, grabbing Cindy’s ribs just below Chrissy’s hand, squeezing randomly.
Cindy stiffened and laughed uncontrollably. “Ahahahahahaha!” Her friends couldn’t see Buford’s hand.
“What is so funny about being eighteen? Here, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” said Chrissy, grabbing her knee and squeezing.
“Nahahahahaha! Nohohohohoh!”
Buford had stopped tickling, seeing the flight attendant at the far front of the plane looking his way. Anyway, he had lighted the fire and that was enough.
Boris looked out the window, bored.
“You can’t get away, you’re all seat belted in,” Chrissy teased.
“Not fairrrraahahahahahah!’ Cindy doubled over, grabbing Chrissy’s hand, weakly trying to pull her off. Her belly shirt was sliding up, baring more tickle spots.
Chrissy looked at all the possibilities, reached behind Cindy into her jeans, grabbing her hips, knowing and accepting the consequences.
Cindy half laughed, half screamed, so loud that even the roar of the engines couldn’t prevent a flight attendant from hearing. “AAAAAAAHHAAAAAAAHAHAAHAAH!”
The nearby passengers looked on, some with delight, some with concern, some laughing along.
A flight attendant quickly arrived. “Is everything all right here?” she said in a thick Russian accent.
“She heeheehee was tickling me!” Cindy explained, catching her breath. Chrissy had stopped when she saw the flight attendant coming.
“We’re just having fun on her birthday,” Chrissy smiled.
“Well, OK, but you cannot make that kind of noise. You understand how screaming people in plane could affect fellow passengers. If I have to, I will separate you.”
“OK, we understand. Sorry,” Chrissy said.
“All right.” The flight attendant chatted for a while, then, satisfied everyone was calm, returned to the front of the plane. “Silly American girls,” she thought to herself.
“Look what you made me do!” scolded Cindy.
“You must keep very quiet,” warned Chrissy, as she grabbed both of Cindy’s knees.
“Stop stop stop stahahahaaha.” Cindy closed her mouth, cupped her hands over her face and laughed through her nose, trying desperately to keep quiet.
“They might arrest us for creating a disturbance on a plane,” cautioned Chrissy, tickling her ribs now and keeping one eye out for the flight attendant.
“MMFH MUMHUMMM HUMMMMM a haha” Cindy twisted and squirmed, keeping her hands on her face, now wet with tears.
“You mustn’t scream,” Chrissy breathed teasingly into her ear, slipping one hand onto Cindy’s hip, and squeezing cautiously.
Cindy whined like a turbo charger, her hips convulsing spastically. “Whaaaaaaaa-eeeeeeeeee.”
Chrissy kept Cindy on the edge, tickling her just enough to be dangerous, pushing the limits of Cindy’s control.
Cindy took both her hands from her face and grabbed Chrissy’s wrist, pulling her off. Chrissy tickled with her other hand on the other hip, switching back and forth, staying ahead of Cindy’s attempt to dislodge her. Cindy’s defensive efforts were slowing, as she got weaker and weaker, clumsier and clumsier, more and more helpless. She grabbed a pillow that had fallen on the floor, put it on her lap, pressed her face into it and screamed. Chrissy, satisfied with this newfound muffler, tickled all the harder, pushing Cindy farther into hysteria, and pushing past that, waiting for that moment… any moment now…. finally, she was pushed into silent laughter. Chrissy pulled the pillow away and tickled her all over now, tickling her back to make her sit up, tickling her belly to make her bend over, and tickling her hips to keep her breathless.
Cindy’s face was red, wet and contorted into a rigid laugh mask, her lungs pumping, but near empty, mouth open, but with only breathless, soundless laughter escaping.
Chrissy had her exactly where she wanted her now. She only had to tickle her intermittently, just a couple quick squeezes or pokes from time to time, to keep her in that giddy, helpless, silent state.
On the other side of Chrissy, Tamara sat very quietly, watching, afraid to say anything to draw attention to herself. Tamara was much more ticklish than Cindy. Chrissy was a basically good person and friend, but she could be an evil, insatiable tickle fiend.
Chrissy kept one tickling hand on Cindy, took the pillow, put it on Tamara’s lap, looked Tamara in the eye and pointed at the pillow. Then she crooked her finger and wiggled it, moving it closer and closer to Tamera. Tamera stared tightlipped at the wiggling finger and then at the pillow, shaking her head, her eyes widening. Chrissy nodded her head. Tamera reached for the attendant’s button overhead, but Chrissy quickly grabbed her thigh, just ahead of her hip. Tamera convulsed into a fetal position, her face landing on the pillow, screaming into it. “Aaaaaaahahahahaaaaaaaahaahahahaha!” It didn’t take Chrissy long to push Tamera into silent laughter.
Chrissy giggled to herself as she pulled the pillow onto her own lap, looked back and forth at her friends, and continued to tickle them further into senseless, silent, laughter.
Buford was so sexually aroused by what was happening, he could hardly stand it. He couldn’t help it. He finally had to pull out his hard….. wait for it….. cased cell phone, and held it high, pointed down, to take a video. Some of the fellow passengers, and even Boris, gave him such disapproving looks, that he had to stop.
Chrissy congratulated herself on becoming a member of a very special mile high club. This was just the scenario she had often fantasized about. Two girlfriends, trapped in their airline seats, giggling helplessly under her hands.
Suddenly Chrissy noticed a flight attendant standing beside them. She had been too distracted to notice.
“Do you not think they have had enough?” asked the flight attendant.
“Probably.” Chrissy stopped tickling them.
“What is your name?” asked the attendant.
“Chrissy”
“Chrissy, I am Natalya, would you come with me please.’
“We were quiet.” whined Chrissy.
“Yes, come. In fact, go to front of plane and wait there.”
Chrissy reluctantly complied. When she got to the front of the plane, she turned around to see flight attendant Natalya talking to Cindy and Tamara.
Soon, Natalya walked to the front of the plane and directed Chrissy to the first of a couple empty rows.
“Fasten your seatbelt, Chrissy. I just want to sit and talk with you.”
“OK,” Chrissy sat in the center seat and fastened her seat belt.
“Your friends like you, but sometimes you take unfair advantage of them.”
“I know, I didn’t mean any harm. I can get a little carried away.”
“They said they can’t tickle back, because you are not ticklish most places.”
“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled. She was rather happy about that.
“I used to tickle my little sister mercilessly. I so loved that. But sometimes I wish I was less cruel.” Natalya said.
Chrissy felt her seat back moving, she turned but didn’t see anyone. She felt someone grab both her ankles, pull them back, and start to remove her shoes. It felt like two people.
“Your friends told me why you never go barefoot.” Natalya said calmly, grasping Chrissy’s seat belt clasp firmly. “My job now is to keep your seat belt on.” Natalya smiled, raising her eyebrows. “And to give you pillow.”
Chrissy could hear Cindy and Tamara chuckling from behind her.
“No, no, no NAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahaahahaahahahahaahahaaaaahaahaa!”
It was very a cramped space for Cindy and Tamara, but it was worth it. They grinned at each other for every pillow-muffled laugh. They showed each other tickle techniques, stroking, scribbling, and poking Chrissy’s squirming, wrinkling soles, and sliding fingers between her little gripping toes. Sometimes they tickled in unison, sometimes alternating, always seeking maximum effect, finally pushing Chrissy past hysteria. It got very quiet.
Natalya said, “I think you do not need pillow now.” She pulled the pillow away from Chrissy, and bent down to look into her face.
Chrissy eyes were squeezed almost shut, shining with tears. Her face was flushed, her mouth half open in almost silent, continuous, breathless laughter.
“Does that tickle, Chrissy?” asked Natalya needlessly, mercilessly.
Chrissy may have nodded, or maybe it was part of her convulsive laughing fit.
Ahahahahaahahaaahahaaaha ah ah aahahahahaahahahaha!”
Nayalya teased, “Tickle? Tickle? Tickle? Oh, yes. Now you look like my sister. You Americans say “It goes around and it comes around”, or something.”
“Naaaa ah ah ah hahahahahahahahaahaha!”
“It is too bad your friends cannot see you,” Natalya sighed. “Wait, I have idea. I borrowed one of your friend’s cell phone.” She started making a video. “There, I make souvenir of friendly Russian skies.”
Natalya smiled broadly at the silent laughter image centered in the cell phone. This is why she was a flight attendant. She so enjoyed helping others.
FIN
No nudity, no sex, some sexual references. No underage tickling, 18+. (Trust me and keep reading.)
Comments, critiques, suggestions, are most welcome.
Friendly Russian Skies F/FF, FF/F, very brief M/F
Russian born Boris Babikov and his American half brother Buford were both glad to be flying out of Alaska and on to Moscow to visit relatives. Boris was also fleeing some legal problems. Despite the roar of the engines, they could hear the conversation between the three girls in the seats in front of them.
“I can’t believe you’re only seventeen, Cindy. We’re both older than you, but you look much more mature.”
“I’ll be eighteen soon enough.”
Buford looked at his brother with dismay. For over twenty years, Boris had struggled with a compulsive fetish for tickling underage, seventeen year old girls and it had gotten him in a lot of trouble. Not younger, not older, just seventeen year old girls. Buford could see that look in his brother’s eyes.
“Don’t do it. It’s not right.”
“I have to. Don’t try and stop me. You know what I’m capable of.”
Boris transformed. He began to look like a heroin addict in withdrawal, his hands twitching, his twisted face betraying a sick, twisted need beyond his control. He was sitting in an aisle seat, as was his unsuspecting victim, just in front of him. His wide, bulging eyes fixed on her with manic intensity. Drool dripped from his contorted mouth. HIs nostrils flared to release the building pressure of his increasingly rapid, deep, steamy breath. His jaw was jerking up and down now, whipping his thick drool into rabid foam. “So tender,” he thought, moaning with each breath, “So innocent. So unaware. So vulnerable. So underage.” His perverted, twisted mind forced his hands into twisted claws that began to reach around the seat. “Tickle to death?” he thought with violent, thrilling intensity. “No, not right away. Savor, savor.” As he peered around the seat, the sight of her bare skin, exposed by a belly shirt, enraged him with lustful, criminally insane desire. His filthy, yellowed, talon-like, spastically clasping fingernails edged ever nearer the soft, tender, naked, underage flesh. Closer, closer…
“This is your captain speaking. We have just crossed the international date line. Welcome to tomorrow.”
“Happy birthday Cindy! How does it feel to be eighteen?”
Boris froze. He made a tiny, mewing, wounded animal sound, turned to his brother and said, “Actually, I’ve rather lost interest now.”
Cindy’s friend Chrissy, seated next to her, slipped her arm around Cindy’s back and pulled her closer. “I’m so happy for you.”
Buford Babikov was watching carefully. “Let’s trade seats, Boris.” he said. He lacked some of Boris’s limitations, but had a shared interest.
They traded seats and Buford reached around the seat in front of him, grabbing Cindy’s ribs just below Chrissy’s hand, squeezing randomly.
Cindy stiffened and laughed uncontrollably. “Ahahahahahaha!” Her friends couldn’t see Buford’s hand.
“What is so funny about being eighteen? Here, I’ll give you something to laugh about.” said Chrissy, grabbing her knee and squeezing.
“Nahahahahaha! Nohohohohoh!”
Buford had stopped tickling, seeing the flight attendant at the far front of the plane looking his way. Anyway, he had lighted the fire and that was enough.
Boris looked out the window, bored.
“You can’t get away, you’re all seat belted in,” Chrissy teased.
“Not fairrrraahahahahahah!’ Cindy doubled over, grabbing Chrissy’s hand, weakly trying to pull her off. Her belly shirt was sliding up, baring more tickle spots.
Chrissy looked at all the possibilities, reached behind Cindy into her jeans, grabbing her hips, knowing and accepting the consequences.
Cindy half laughed, half screamed, so loud that even the roar of the engines couldn’t prevent a flight attendant from hearing. “AAAAAAAHHAAAAAAAHAHAAHAAH!”
The nearby passengers looked on, some with delight, some with concern, some laughing along.
A flight attendant quickly arrived. “Is everything all right here?” she said in a thick Russian accent.
“She heeheehee was tickling me!” Cindy explained, catching her breath. Chrissy had stopped when she saw the flight attendant coming.
“We’re just having fun on her birthday,” Chrissy smiled.
“Well, OK, but you cannot make that kind of noise. You understand how screaming people in plane could affect fellow passengers. If I have to, I will separate you.”
“OK, we understand. Sorry,” Chrissy said.
“All right.” The flight attendant chatted for a while, then, satisfied everyone was calm, returned to the front of the plane. “Silly American girls,” she thought to herself.
“Look what you made me do!” scolded Cindy.
“You must keep very quiet,” warned Chrissy, as she grabbed both of Cindy’s knees.
“Stop stop stop stahahahaaha.” Cindy closed her mouth, cupped her hands over her face and laughed through her nose, trying desperately to keep quiet.
“They might arrest us for creating a disturbance on a plane,” cautioned Chrissy, tickling her ribs now and keeping one eye out for the flight attendant.
“MMFH MUMHUMMM HUMMMMM a haha” Cindy twisted and squirmed, keeping her hands on her face, now wet with tears.
“You mustn’t scream,” Chrissy breathed teasingly into her ear, slipping one hand onto Cindy’s hip, and squeezing cautiously.
Cindy whined like a turbo charger, her hips convulsing spastically. “Whaaaaaaaa-eeeeeeeeee.”
Chrissy kept Cindy on the edge, tickling her just enough to be dangerous, pushing the limits of Cindy’s control.
Cindy took both her hands from her face and grabbed Chrissy’s wrist, pulling her off. Chrissy tickled with her other hand on the other hip, switching back and forth, staying ahead of Cindy’s attempt to dislodge her. Cindy’s defensive efforts were slowing, as she got weaker and weaker, clumsier and clumsier, more and more helpless. She grabbed a pillow that had fallen on the floor, put it on her lap, pressed her face into it and screamed. Chrissy, satisfied with this newfound muffler, tickled all the harder, pushing Cindy farther into hysteria, and pushing past that, waiting for that moment… any moment now…. finally, she was pushed into silent laughter. Chrissy pulled the pillow away and tickled her all over now, tickling her back to make her sit up, tickling her belly to make her bend over, and tickling her hips to keep her breathless.
Cindy’s face was red, wet and contorted into a rigid laugh mask, her lungs pumping, but near empty, mouth open, but with only breathless, soundless laughter escaping.
Chrissy had her exactly where she wanted her now. She only had to tickle her intermittently, just a couple quick squeezes or pokes from time to time, to keep her in that giddy, helpless, silent state.
On the other side of Chrissy, Tamara sat very quietly, watching, afraid to say anything to draw attention to herself. Tamara was much more ticklish than Cindy. Chrissy was a basically good person and friend, but she could be an evil, insatiable tickle fiend.
Chrissy kept one tickling hand on Cindy, took the pillow, put it on Tamara’s lap, looked Tamara in the eye and pointed at the pillow. Then she crooked her finger and wiggled it, moving it closer and closer to Tamera. Tamera stared tightlipped at the wiggling finger and then at the pillow, shaking her head, her eyes widening. Chrissy nodded her head. Tamera reached for the attendant’s button overhead, but Chrissy quickly grabbed her thigh, just ahead of her hip. Tamera convulsed into a fetal position, her face landing on the pillow, screaming into it. “Aaaaaaahahahahaaaaaaaahaahahahaha!” It didn’t take Chrissy long to push Tamera into silent laughter.
Chrissy giggled to herself as she pulled the pillow onto her own lap, looked back and forth at her friends, and continued to tickle them further into senseless, silent, laughter.
Buford was so sexually aroused by what was happening, he could hardly stand it. He couldn’t help it. He finally had to pull out his hard….. wait for it….. cased cell phone, and held it high, pointed down, to take a video. Some of the fellow passengers, and even Boris, gave him such disapproving looks, that he had to stop.
Chrissy congratulated herself on becoming a member of a very special mile high club. This was just the scenario she had often fantasized about. Two girlfriends, trapped in their airline seats, giggling helplessly under her hands.
Suddenly Chrissy noticed a flight attendant standing beside them. She had been too distracted to notice.
“Do you not think they have had enough?” asked the flight attendant.
“Probably.” Chrissy stopped tickling them.
“What is your name?” asked the attendant.
“Chrissy”
“Chrissy, I am Natalya, would you come with me please.’
“We were quiet.” whined Chrissy.
“Yes, come. In fact, go to front of plane and wait there.”
Chrissy reluctantly complied. When she got to the front of the plane, she turned around to see flight attendant Natalya talking to Cindy and Tamara.
Soon, Natalya walked to the front of the plane and directed Chrissy to the first of a couple empty rows.
“Fasten your seatbelt, Chrissy. I just want to sit and talk with you.”
“OK,” Chrissy sat in the center seat and fastened her seat belt.
“Your friends like you, but sometimes you take unfair advantage of them.”
“I know, I didn’t mean any harm. I can get a little carried away.”
“They said they can’t tickle back, because you are not ticklish most places.”
“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled. She was rather happy about that.
“I used to tickle my little sister mercilessly. I so loved that. But sometimes I wish I was less cruel.” Natalya said.
Chrissy felt her seat back moving, she turned but didn’t see anyone. She felt someone grab both her ankles, pull them back, and start to remove her shoes. It felt like two people.
“Your friends told me why you never go barefoot.” Natalya said calmly, grasping Chrissy’s seat belt clasp firmly. “My job now is to keep your seat belt on.” Natalya smiled, raising her eyebrows. “And to give you pillow.”
Chrissy could hear Cindy and Tamara chuckling from behind her.
“No, no, no NAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahaahahaahahahahaahahaaaaahaahaa!”
It was very a cramped space for Cindy and Tamara, but it was worth it. They grinned at each other for every pillow-muffled laugh. They showed each other tickle techniques, stroking, scribbling, and poking Chrissy’s squirming, wrinkling soles, and sliding fingers between her little gripping toes. Sometimes they tickled in unison, sometimes alternating, always seeking maximum effect, finally pushing Chrissy past hysteria. It got very quiet.
Natalya said, “I think you do not need pillow now.” She pulled the pillow away from Chrissy, and bent down to look into her face.
Chrissy eyes were squeezed almost shut, shining with tears. Her face was flushed, her mouth half open in almost silent, continuous, breathless laughter.
“Does that tickle, Chrissy?” asked Natalya needlessly, mercilessly.
Chrissy may have nodded, or maybe it was part of her convulsive laughing fit.
Ahahahahaahahaaahahaaaha ah ah aahahahahaahahahaha!”
Nayalya teased, “Tickle? Tickle? Tickle? Oh, yes. Now you look like my sister. You Americans say “It goes around and it comes around”, or something.”
“Naaaa ah ah ah hahahahahahahahaahaha!”
“It is too bad your friends cannot see you,” Natalya sighed. “Wait, I have idea. I borrowed one of your friend’s cell phone.” She started making a video. “There, I make souvenir of friendly Russian skies.”
Natalya smiled broadly at the silent laughter image centered in the cell phone. This is why she was a flight attendant. She so enjoyed helping others.
FIN
